She raised her brows. “Your bimbos? Fuck-buddies?”
His chest rumbled with a gritty laugh. “I get the point. You think I’m a man-whore.”
She blinked with mock innocence. “I never said that!”
“You say it all the time,” he responded in a wry drawl.
Brit scrunched her nose. “Hmm . . . I do, don’t I? Guess it must be true.”
They were still grinning when the waiter delivered the coffee and desserts. Brit swallowed a bite of cheesecake, then got right back on topic. “So, have you thought about how Reese is going to react to your . . . um . . .”
“My what?”
She blew out a short breath. “Look, I’m not judging, Ben. But it’s no secret that your sexual activities are . . . well, rumored to be a bit on the wild side. Granted, you’ve toned things down since taking the job as sheriff, but still . . . Emotional issues aside, have you considered how compatible the two of you will be sexually?”
“You sound like a freaking therapist,” he muttered.
“I am a therapist. But I’m talking as your friend. You’re going to feel like shit if you—”
“Leave it.” He didn’t want to continue this conversation, her words hitting a nerve. He knew the odds were high that Reese would be uncomfortable with a lot of the things he’d want from her. He wouldn’t push her—but he wouldn’t let her shy away from him, either. Getting his fill was going to require a lot of hot, sweaty hours between the sheets . . . or anywhere else they happened to end up. He couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t shock her at times, but he damn well planned to make sure she enjoyed every second of her time with him. He’d never wanted to make any woman come as badly as he wanted to watch and feel Reese coming apart in his arms, shivering and screaming and blowing his ever-loving mind.
Brit waited until they’d finished their desserts before making another comment. Pushing her empty plate aside, she studied his expression as she said, “I don’t think it’s going to be easy, but I hope it all works out. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that you won’t be a jackass and let her slip away.”
Ben locked his jaw, knowing that Brit wouldn’t understand how he could be happy with the idea of a sexual fling and not want something more than that. But it was exactly what he wanted. He’d seen too many doomed men go down the romance and relationship road to ever make the same mistake himself. If his parents’ fucked-up marriage hadn’t persuaded him to avoid getting too serious with any one woman, his older brother’s shitty experience would have convinced him that Hudson men were better off on their own. Fewer complications that way, and a hell of a lot less damage.
Still, something about the situation with Reese told him he should be on his guard. There was just something about the way he wanted her that kicked him a little too hard in the gut, making him edgy and a little uneasy. He wasn’t one of those guys who claimed bachelorhood was the life, then turned around and married the first woman who wrapped him around her little finger. Ben knew what he was capable of . . . and what he wasn’t. And he didn’t need to pay for a therapy session with Brit to have his personality profiled when he already knew what she’d say. That his rocky childhood had stunted his ability to place emotional trust in another person. That what happened to his older brother, Alex, had then compounded his fear of emotional intimacy. He’d heard it all before, as well as her theory that he put his life on the line so often because he didn’t care all that much about living. Which he thought was bullshit. He didn’t want to die. He just couldn’t stand scumbags walking around hurting innocent people, when they should be suffering behind bars.
And just because he couldn’t stomach the concept of marriage didn’t mean he was in the wrong. It was just a part of who he was. The idea of a wife and kids would be his worst fucking nightmare.
And that’s just another line of bullshit, Hudson.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to force the irritating voice inside his head back into silence, knowing better than to listen to it. But the damn thing wouldn’t shut up.
You’re just afraid to let yourself care, because you don’t want to be screwed over. Because you’re terrified of finding someone, and then losing her.
Ben choked back a guttural curse, wondering what the hell was wrong with that. There were times when the world could be a miserable cesspool of violence and danger. Psychotic assholes prowling the night, picking their victims at random. No order to the chaos. Almost impossible to protect against it. Jesus, just the thought of falling in love with some woman, marrying her, and putting babies in her belly made him break out in a cold sweat. How the fuck would he deal with the worry without smothering the ones he loved and driving them bat-shit?
So you’d be protective? murmured the voice. That’s not a bad thing. And think of all the good that could come from it . . .
He started to shrug that aside, when his gaze landed on the young family sitting at the next table over. Pregnant mom, glowing in that way that only an expectant mother could. Proud dad helping his curly-haired toddler get a grip on his sippy cup, while giving his wife a private smile. They looked ridiculously happy. In love. Blissed out and mad for each other, unabashedly excited about the future and their little growing army of rug rats.
See what I mean? the voice prodded. They don’t look like they’re suffering the torments of hell.
Yeah, all right, so he could see the good when looking at this family. But that didn’t mean it was a scenario that would work in his own life. He was a Hudson, after all. His dad had tried, again and again, only to crash and burn. And Alex had barely survived his shot at love and marriage. In each situation, Ben had been the one to pick up the pieces when everything went to shit. The one who forced them to keep on going, refusing to let them slide into a slow, whiskey-flavored death, stubborn bastard that he was. And he’d learned from the experience. He might die old and alone, but at least he wouldn’t have let a woman drag his balls through the wringer and tear his bloody heart out. As badly as he wanted her, he wouldn’t even allow Reese to have that kind of power over him.
Not now. Not ever.
But hell, he thought, scrubbing his hands down his face. Why am I even doing this to myself? There was no reason for him to be crunching this emotional shit through his mind in the middle of McClain’s, getting wound up by Brit’s advice and a damn voice in his head. The last thing in the world Reese would be looking for, after coming out of a crappy marriage, was to get serious with anyone. If anything, she should be on the prowl for a rebound fling, and that he could easily provide, once he got past her defenses.
It was a perfect scenario . . . so long as he could get Reese to agree.
Ben was still lost in thought, when Brit’s voice suddenly cut into his private musings for the second time that night, bringing him back to the moment. Almost as if she’d been reading his mind, she gave him an apologetic smile, and said, “I know you’re a good guy, Ben, but just . . . don’t make Reese any promises you can’t keep. Make sure she knows what she’s getting into, right from the start. Even if it means you lose your chance with her.”
3
BEN SQUINTED AT BRIT ACROSS THE TABLE, A LITTLE SURPRISED BY HER words. He thought she knew him better than that. “You really think I would ever lie to get what I want from a woman?”
Her tone was wry, and maybe even a little sad. “You’re a male, aren’t you?”
He shook his head. “You’re gonna eat those words one day,” he shot back, hoping he’d be there to see it when some brave man finally broke through her shields and rocked her world. Ben would love the guy, just so long as he treated Brit like a queen.
After they’d finished their coffees and walked outside, into the humid, sea-scented night, he kissed her on the cheek, agreeing to meet her at the beach party her practice was throwing the following day, then headed home. As he pulled into his driveway, Ben could see the lights on in Reese’s house through the flower-covered trellis that separated the two properties. He parked the truck,
wondering if she’d thought about him that evening. Had she regretted not taking him up on his offer for dinner? Or was she so wrapped up in starting her new life that she hadn’t even given him a second thought?
He wanted to go over there, just to see her. Talk to her. But she’d looked so freaked out that afternoon, he reckoned he should give her some time. He didn’t like it, but he also didn’t want to push her to the point that she panicked and shut him out completely. Not that he’d let her, but he was trying to get on her good side, damn it. It wasn’t going to help his cause if he started acting like a bullheaded jackass.
Resigning himself to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to see her until tomorrow, he climbed out of his truck and set the alarm.
As he made his way to his front door, Ben gave a soft laugh, recalling the look of shock that had settled over Reese’s face when he’d told her he was her new landlord. As soon as he’d learned her mom was looking for a place for her to rent, he’d suggested the beach house. But he hadn’t realized the woman would keep that information to herself. He’d figured she had put the lease in her own name to keep Reese’s ex from being able to track her down, which was fine by him. He didn’t want the bastard bugging her. Drew Leighton might have screwed around on his wife, but Ben had no doubt the prick was missing her now that she’d bailed.
The night air was warm and thick as he singled his house key out from the others on his key chain, the roar of the surf a soothing backdrop to the nearby sounds of late-night beach parties and blaring music. Making a mental note to call one of his deputies if the music hadn’t let up by midnight, Ben unlocked his door and started to head inside, when he heard something that sounded like breaking glass.
What the fuck? This wouldn’t be the first time that a group of drunken partygoers had wandered up from a beach bonfire onto the patio that ran the length of both houses in the back. The last time it’d happened, he’d found a couple of local teens going at it on one of his lounge chairs. They’d had the crap scared out of them when they realized they’d trespassed onto the sheriff’s private property, and had taken his warning seriously not to let it happen again. But the beach attracted so many partiers during the summer months, there was no telling who it might be this time.
Pulling his door shut, Ben made his way around the side of his house, hoping Reese hadn’t heard anything. He didn’t want her wandering outside and having to deal with a bunch of shit-faced teens. They were harmless enough, but who knew what they might say to her?
The moon cast a silvery glow over the long patio as he climbed up the two steps that led to the raised platform of wooden planks. A rustle in the hedge that ran along Reese’s side of the patio signaled the departure of whoever had made the racket. Ben figured they must not be too drunk, if they were smart enough to make for cover, instead of heading straight out to the beach, where he could have easily seen them. He looked around, spotting a few empty beer bottles on one of the tables, but didn’t see any broken ones. Then he turned toward Reese’s house and muttered a curse.
Son of a bitch. The idiots had thrown one of the bottles, breaking a long pane of glass in the French doors that led to her living room.
He was walking over to take a closer look when he heard her voice. “Ben? Is that you?”
Shifting his gaze, he caught sight of her as she came around the far corner of the house, a heavy hammer gripped tight in her right hand. “Yeah, it’s me,” he called out. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Looking relieved to see him, she quickly set the hammer down on the corner of an oversize flowerpot brimming with dahlias, crossed her arms over her chest, and headed toward him. Her dark gaze flickered between him and the shattered pane in the door. “What happened?”
“Summer break,” he said, eyeing her getup. She had on a gray cotton nightshirt and a pair of white, unlaced Converse high-tops. It was an odd combination, but looked adorable on her, those damn freckles on her face only adding to her appeal. “I think some of the kids from one of the bonfires were on our patio,” he added, his voice a little gruffer than before. “Looks like they tossed a bottle and it broke your door.”
She seemed worried . . . and maybe a little nervous about running into him. “Did they leave any kind of message?” she asked, scanning the patio with a troubled look.
“A message?”
“Yeah.” She brought her gaze back to his and wet her lips. “Like a note or something?”
“Reese, this wasn’t someone who knew you. It was just some kids screwing around. You don’t need to be scared.”
Taking a deep breath, she asked, “Does this happen a lot?”
“Naw. They’ve wandered up here a few times, but they’ve never caused any damage to the property. I’ll have the patrols increased on the beach for the next few weeks. That should keep things calm.”
She caught her lower lip in her teeth as her gaze shifted toward the damage, but he could sense her watching him from the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry about the door.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he told her, wondering if she could feel that strange current arcing between them, like an electrical pulse in the air. “I can call someone out to repair it tomorrow. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.”
A slight shrug sent the scoop-neck shirt sliding off one smooth shoulder, streams of moonlight reflecting off the pale luster of her skin. She looked so silky and soft it was killing him, his hands itching at his sides to reach out and grab hold of her.
“It just startled me,” she was saying, careful to keep her arms crossed over her breasts. “I was getting ready for bed when I heard the noise.”
At the mention of bed, Ben’s gaze took another heated sweep over her body, settling on the bare length of thigh revealed beneath the nightshirt. Her legs were sleekly muscled and toned, and he wondered if she’d be taking runs on the beach. If she did, he had every intention of going along with her.
She cleared her throat into the breath-filled silence, drawing his hot gaze back up to her face. “What about your date?” She cast a quick look over his jeans and white polo shirt. “Is she waiting back at your place?”
“She isn’t here,” he replied, pushing his hands in his pockets. “And it wasn’t a date. I just had dinner with a friend.”
“Oh . . . well, I hope you had a good time.”
He sighed, knowing damn well what she was thinking. “You can stop looking at me like that, Reese.”
“Like what?” she asked, sounding wary . . . and a little confused.
“Like I’ve just screwed around on you.”
A flurry of emotions raced across her face, those dark blue eyes suddenly shocked big and wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re friends, Ben. At least I hope we are. You’re obviously free to sleep with whoever you want.”
“I didn’t sleep with her.” Tension bunched across his shoulders, climbing up the back of his neck.
Her gaze skittered away, bouncing off random pieces of patio furniture, before settling on the distant crashing waves of the sea. She swallowed hard, her voice tight when she spoke. “Well, that’s, um, not really any of my business.”
“Look at me, Reese.”
She made a sharp sound of exasperation, but finally locked her narrow gaze with his. Ben closed the distance between them until she had to crane her head back to hold his stare, the slight breeze blowing several strands of dark, gleaming hair across her cheek.
“I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a liar. If I said I didn’t fuck her, then I didn’t fuck her.”
She blinked up at him. Took a single step back. “I . . . I’m going to head on to bed now. I’ll, uh, see you . . . around.”
Ben stopped her retreat by reaching out and grabbing her upper arm. “You can’t sleep alone with a broken door.”
Chin raised, she struggled to pull her arm from his grip, but he wasn’t letting her go. “It’s a safe town,” she argued, glaring up at him. “You said so yourself.”
&nbs
p; “We’re still on the beach, and the coast is always going to have its share of trouble. I’ve scheduled to have an alarm put in, but the installation isn’t until next week. So it’s smart to be careful, Reese. A single woman living on her own can’t afford to take any chances.”
Beneath that impish spray of freckles, her face went pale. “Are you trying to scare me?”
Ben kept a firm hold on her arm. “No. I’m not saying lock up and hide. And this is a safe place to live, or I wouldn’t have leased you the beach house. But it’s stupid to take any chances. I’ll bunk down on your couch tonight, and we can get the door fixed tomorrow.”
“Oh . . . that’s not necessary. I can just go stay with my mom for the night,” she said in a rush, renewing her efforts to free her arm. He didn’t want to hurt her by gripping too tightly, so he grabbed the short sleeve of her shirt instead.
“There’s no reason to go worrying your mother,” he said in a low voice, fisting her sleeve in his hand.
She sent a stunned look from his hand to his face. “Really, Ben, this is ridiculous.” Her voice was even tighter than before. “I can take care of myself. And I’m sure you have someplace else to—”
“Damn it, there isn’t another woman waiting for me,” he ground out, frustration searing through his veins. “I was out with a friend tonight. Her name is Brit Cramer and I expect the two of you are gonna hit it off great when you meet. Brit and I have been friends for a long time now, but we’ve never dated. End of story.” He tugged on the sleeve, pulling her a little closer. Close enough that he could scent the toothpaste on her breath. See the gold flecks shimmering in the midnight blue depths of her eyes. “And even if I had been out on a date, I wouldn’t have slept with the woman. You wanna know why?”
Her eyes flared—but with panic, not fear. “I think you should go—”
“Don’t.” Ben grabbed on to her other arm, holding her in place. “Stop telling me to leave the second we start talking about something that makes you nervous.”
Take Me Under Page 4